Game Over
by JudgeJuryExecutioner
Summary: When a young girl wakes up in a strange place not knowing...well, anything really, how will she cope? Will Emma survive the chaotic world known as Assassin's Creed? Probably not. But her adventures are sure to be hilarious and more than a little painful.
1. Meet And Greet

**A/N: My very first fic...this should be interesting. I'm a fan of constructive criticism!**

An unfamiliar wind blasted through my hiding place, ruffling my tangled bangs and startling me awake. I curled myself tighter and squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't want to be here, wherever here was, I knew I didn't like it.

Dry air scorched my lungs and sand agitated my eyes. Alien sounds drifted in under the canvas flaps hiding me from the world and the world from me. The clinking of pots, the scuffling of thousands of feet and the obnoxious cries of merchants blended into a terrifying crescendo, muffling my heart's stumbling beats.

One sound rose above the others and as I slowly stretched my trembling limbs I chanced a quick peek over the wooden rim. The flap was pulled back and a white blur crashed down into my space. A calloused hand lashed out and smothered my startled gasp. I was pulled down onto the splintered boards of the floor. A disgruntled shout echoed from somewhere outside the box and answering yells quickly faded into nothingness.

Perhaps the white shadow's pursuers? The single hand of my captor still covered my mouth and I figured enough was enough. I shifted slightly and bit down with all my 14-year-old strength. The smell of leather and blood flooded my nostrils and I had captured a short moment of victory. It was ended abruptly when the stranger-I'm guessing male-hauled me out into the sunlight and threw me into the dirt.

I rolled to my feet and brought my hands up in the textbook style of defense. I blinked furiously against the sudden light and sand attacking my eyesight. One hand wiped away the grit and I saw the stranger clearly for the first time.

He was tall, wearing a white robe and had more knives strapped to him then I have fingers. Seeing this as problematic I adjusted my stance and watched him carefully while my mind reeled at the similarity of it all.

A hood covered his face and as he pulled one long blade from its sheath I stepped back and promptly tripped over an unforeseen obstacle. His sword was at my neck before the thoughts of standing again had ever entertained my slightly panicked mind.

"C'mon man, really!?" I yelped, raising my chin to avoid the deadly point.

"What are you?" The man spoke and his voice was shockingly similar.

"I don't get a 'who'? I-" I was silenced by increased pressure at my throat.

"You look to be a woman, but you don't dress, speak, act or look like any of the women I know of. So I'll ask again-what are you?" I noticed that in person he had a more threatening aura, I could almost taste it. Or that could be my lunch coming back up. Either seemed possible.

"Does that mean you know many women? Altair I'm shocked!" my tongue betrayed me again, as it usually does, and his sword drew blood.

"How do you know my name woman?" Altair growled.

"Not exactly a woman, see, I'm only 14. And I know your name 'cause…because…I do." I finished lamely. Cut me some slack though, how are you supposed to tell a guy that I come from a different...time, and that he's a character and that his life is a _game_!?

"Tell me." He said, clearly not satisfied.

"I…come from…America, and…um…its complicated. I guess you could say I'm from a different universe." What is this!? Star Trek!?

"America?" he tried the word but I knew he wanted more of an answer.

My mind froze when I registered the very real blood dribbling down my neck in a small trail and the stinging in my hands and elbows…pinch me, I'm dreaming. Somehow I went from safe home world to alternate universe, where game characters come to life. I was gonna die in this world and no one back home would know how I met my end. Talk about a buzz killer. I set aside my morbid thoughts of death and destruction and scrambled for an answer to Altair's question.

"Shoot…look, I kinda come from a different…world, and you're just gonna have to roll with that alright!?" I pleaded. Knocking my brain into high gear, trying to get him off my case. Altair seemed to be debating over killing me or sparing my life, I hoped he would settle with the latter.

"Why should I believe a crazy person?" Altair said instead.

"Hey, I ain't crazy."

"…You still haven't told me how you know my name."

"I know things."

"…"

"Fine. Don't believe me? Well, I know you and Malik are both assassins, he is a rafik though you just got demoted. And yeah, I even know why. You screwed up one big ass mission and Robert de Sable got away. Am I right?'

"…"

"Right. Malik loses his arm, Kadar dies, you get stabbed in the gut. Boom, game over, now you're fighting to get back your status." I stopped there, fearing I had gone to far, I always do.

"You know not of what you speak!" He hissed through clenched teeth. The sword point pressed deeper into my neck. I held my hands up, palms out, trying to convey that no harm was meant. After a long pause he sheathed his sword and I didn't bother hiding my sigh of relief.

"You betray me and _then_ you die." He said, shrugging further into his hood. I rose to my feet and stuck my hands in my pockets. What was I supposed to say to the guy who just spared my life after threatening it in the first place?

"At least think before killing me, alright? I just might know how to help with your targets." The last bit of my sentence faded into quiet mumbles as my easily distracted brain noticed a little man in a pointy hat pulling what looked like an arrow from behind him and aiming it at…us. Shit.

"Dude." I whispered, pointing one finger over his shoulder at the lone figure. Faster than the eye can see, Altair twisted and speared the rooftop archer with a throwing knife. He straightened again and I just stared up at him. Yes, up, he is a tall guy.

I tried a sorry smile and held my hand up in a suggestion of peace.

"Truce?"

He continued to stare, no, _glare_ at me. I fidgeted under his gaze until he whirled around and sprinted away, across thatched roofs and rickety arches.

"Keep up." He shouted back to me.

"Bite me!"

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." I stated, leaning back to look at the minaret stretching above us.

"No." Altair replied, standing next to me.

You…you're a psycho, that's what you are."

"I am an assassin." He looked at me, confused, for a few brief seconds.

"Right." I said in a posh British accent. He ignored me and ran at the wall, climbing up the rock face like some deformed monkey. I sighed heavily and sat down to watch his quick progress up the tower. I had guessed long before that we were somewhere in Jerusalem and he was just beginning his search for the bureau. Malik's bureau in fact.

I located a nearby ladder and slid down to the street to wait for Altair by the haystack. I didn't have long to wait as he landed in the cart seconds later.

"The eagle has landed." I sang, laughing at him when he climbed out of the hay with straws sticking out of his uniform. He said nothing, as usual, and I followed him quietly.

Several minutes passed until he turned towards me and scrutinized my tall frame and I would say with more than a little curiosity.

"You never told me what you are." I glared at him stubbornly. "…_Who_ you are." He finished instead.

"Je m'appelle Emma et je suis une fille." I stated grinning at his confused frown.

"Tu ne parle pas francais, oui?" I continued, smiling openly and laughing outright when his frown deepened.

"I don't understand." Altair said, looking like he wanted to cut my throat and be done with it.

"Of course not, but I said my name is Emma and I'm a girl, cause you didn't quite get that the first time round." I laughed some more and leaned against the wall of the alley we currently occupied.

"Hmm…can you climb?" He asked, which startled me somewhat but did nothing to dampen my smile.

"Sure I can." I said, almost a question.

"Then start climbing." He leaped at the wall and scampered up and out of my field of view.

"Yep, I'll take the easy way." I mumbled to myself, spying a ladder nearby.

I reached the roof and saw Altair standing on a patchwork wooden roof. I thought this must be the Jerusalem bureau. Malik is probably inside, working away at his maps. I scrambled up the rest of the ladder and jogged towards the assassin.

"What's up homedog" almost falling into the bureau but managing to catch Altair's elbow instead of falling through the hole. Surprisingly he didn't react to the contact or statement and continued to stare down at the floor.

"The sky." He mumbled and I gaped incredulously at his back as he dropped down into the room. I fell down not long after and followed him into the next room.

"That sounded like a joke, was that a joke Altair? Dude!?" I called after him but stopped suddenly when I noticed that two pairs of eyes had me locked in their sights.

"Altair. Who is the girl." No. Fucking. Way. None other than Malik A-Sayf stood behind the waist-high desk and glaring daggers at his guests.

"I found her on a roof while being chased by guards. Keeping her alive seemed like the best course of action." Altair explained, I thought a bit emotionlessly.

Malik huffed and continued with his map. "I assume Al Mualim sent you for a mission Altair."

"I seek the life of Talal. How can I find him." He said in the same monotone voice as before.

Malik huffed a few more times and turned away from us to face the bookshelf behind him and looked to be searching for a book among the scattered tomes. Eventually he turned back to us and rattled off the certain places where Altair might find the information he needs. With one lasting insult he returned to his maps and Altair left the small room.

Only ever seeing them arguing in the game, the real life version was like sugar to a diabetic. Too damn good.

**A/N: So, should I continue?**


	2. Ouch

**A/N: I have continued, huzzah! I don't know if it was a long wait but I will try to upload faster next time. In case you don't notice I have no medical experience at all...so...there...**

I hummed along to a song, my headphones planted firmly in my ears and my ipod clutched in one hand; alternating between peeking in through the door and watching the hole in the wooden lattice above me.

When Altair had disappeared through the hole I assumed that I was going to stay in the bureau and be watched by the rafiq, a type of ancient babysitting you might say. He must still think I'm a Templar spy or a horrible abomination from the ripped fabric of space and time. Which wouldn't be that bad really, at least then I might have a way back home.

My energetic steps faded into slow pacing and I eventually dropped down onto the deceptively soft pillows. I punched a few of them to force the fabric into a more comfortable position and rolled over on my stomach so I could see into the adjoining room.

Malik hadn't said a word and neither had I. I felt the need to break the silence but held myself back thinking that there was nothing interesting to talk _about_.

"Soooooooo…how's the weather?" I tried, with a small smile. Malik glanced at me briefly. I would say his stare was withering but that would be an understatement.

I paused before saying "Personally I think it's a tad dry."

Malik uttered a distracted 'hmm' and I sighed quietly, tapping my fingers on the sandy floor in silent aggravation. Dead air settled over the Jerusalem bureau like a woolen blanket.

I laid on the floor thinking back on the past-my past- and was disgruntled when I found my mind skimping on the details. Sure, I remembered things like my name and age, my friends and family, but I wasn't worried about those things right now; mainly I was worried about how I got here and how I might be getting back, you know, little things like that.

"Altair seems to think that there is more to you than meets the eye. Other than the obvious difference in dress and speech…I'm curious, are you a Templar?" he finished his sentence with a sharp flick of the wrist, I presume finishing a street on one of his several maps.

"If I were a Templar, why would I tell you?" I rolled over onto my back and watched him upside down. Malik looked back up at me and his glare dangerously close to deadly. "Point taken, and no, I'm not a Templar."

"After that statement how can I trust you? Actually, how can I trust you at all, I don't even know you."

"Good observation detective, but here's one thing, you haven't killed me yet."

Malik's look suggested I explain my reasoning.

"If you and Altair thought I was a threat you would have killed me like-" I snapped my fingers "-that."

Malik stared at the wall across the desk, I was just happy his piercing glare was directed at something other than me. Silence fell…hold on, when I say 'fell' I mean plummeted-from-a-very-highflying-airplane-with-no-parachute type of 'fell', please continue.

Anyways, it got nice and quiet, real peaceful like (insert southern accent here). Gosh, I love that feeling, just when you're drifting off to sleep you float through this warm haze where the world seems far away. Perfect equilibrium…best feeling in the world, only second to pure happiness and true love.

But I was having none of it! I jumped up from the pillows and continued my frantic pacing, I couldn't sit still as usual and it was killing me having to stay coped up in this damn room. I grumbled, crossing my arms stubbornly and dropping to the ground in front of the fountain.

Some time later I learned that if I kept my arm stretched out long enough the pigeons would gather some courage and perch on my slim fingers. It was all so much fun until they started considering my arm a new treat.

Our unpleasant game was abruptly cut short when a body collapsed inches from my right foot, which, if you have ever experienced it, can be extremely frightening. And startling. Like any cliché horror flick, I jumped to my feet and stood over the body dumbly, waiting for it to move, or strangle me with my intestines, whichever came first.

Vaguely I noticed the body was Altair shaped and what really got my gears turning was the blood seeping from a cut in his side.

"Damn, what the hell did you do?" I gasped through parted lips, sliding closer and daring to peek under his hood for signs of life. He swatted my hand away and I couldn't help but notice more blood splashing the ground. I may not be a doctor but I'm pretty sure that's not healthy…at _all_.

His hands scrambled for purchase on the floor and he pushed his weight off the ground with a pained grunt. Again, more blood stained the sandy floor. I reacted naturally and forced him back down with a firm 'stay here' and leaped over him in search for Malik.

If the rafiq hadn't heard us before, he definitely would now, "Man down! Oi, I said man down!"

"I'm not deaf woman!" Malik snapped, nearly colliding with me at the doorway into the other room. He was carefully balancing bandages and a full bowl of water, all with one arm. I was impressed.

"Make yourself useful, get more cloth from the desk." He commanded, slipping past me and kneeling at the wounded assassin's side.

"Where?"

"Behind it!"

"Aha!"

I practically flew over the small door closing off the desk, fear for the assassin's life giving my feet wings. I rummaged around in the packed shelves, searching for the cloth bandages Malik had ordered.

I gripped the rough material in shaky fingers and returned to the other room and dropped down by Malik's side. He was pulling at the robes covering Altair's midriff, but only having one arm inhibited him somewhat. Altair weakly slapping his hand away and mumbling 'I'm fine' was no help either.

Several strained moments passed by and Malik had managed to rip the blood soaked material away from the gaping wound in his side. I've had some pretty bad scrapes in my day, but _nothing_ compared to the chunk of meat missing from Altair's torso. The gash was like a mocking smirk, spitting his blood through angry red lips onto the ground.

"Did you purposefully leave your guard open?" Malik somehow found the breath to insult Altair while caring for his wound. He poured half the bowl over his side, what I could see of Altair's face was contorted in pain.

"Put something in his mouth so he doesn't bite his damn tongue off." Malik ordered, already preparing the needle and string for stitches. I grabbed extra bandages and forced Altair's jaws around the thick material. I barely got away with my fingers still attached.

"Yeah, ok, now what?" I stumbled through the simple words.

"Now you hold him down so I can sew him back together."

"No, really, what now?"

"I just said-"

"He's way to strong! How do you expect me to hold him down?"

"Useless!" Malik grunted and moved closer to Altair, he grabbed his chin and forced the assassin to look at him.

"You will _not_ hit me, understood?" Altair's head bobbed in a slow nod, I guess losing a lot of blood can do that to a person. Malik twisted and turned back to me.

"You are to keep the water full and make sure I have enough bandages." I nodded numbly, my eyes still locked on the gaping hole in Altair's side. He thrust the wooden bowl into my hands and leaned over the wounded assassin to begin the first stitch.

The thin silver needle pierced the raw skin. Altair's arched his back in pain and I feared his spine might crack.

**A/N: School hasn't beaten me yet! Next chapter will be up soon...I hope...**


	3. Don't Be Hatin'

**Ahoy me hearties I have survived the raging waters of Sloth and Procrastination and have returned to me blasted computer to type the thrice-cursed piece of shite I present to you fair people. Aye me swashbuckling mates I have produced more feed for tha fire and happily...aww screw it...Read and review!...please**

Malik glared at me through the purple welt blooming over his left eye. But he does that to everything…and everyone. I've seen him glare at inkpots, innocent piles of paper, and the world in general. And he glares at Altair 24/7, even if they're not in the same room, he finds a way.

No, what was different about _this_ glare, was that it was directed at me, and I had known the man for little more than a day. I think that's a record.

"It's only a bruise-"Malik (if possible) glared harder "-okay, a very big bruise but it'll heal right?" My voice was barely above a whisper and disturbed the silence awkwardly. He attempted a snort of disbelief around the split in his lip; I'd have to say it didn't work so well. The rafiq heaved a sigh of…something, maybe annoyance, or anger…probably both.

"You could have at least tried to stop him." Malik's voice was surprisingly calm considering I just cost him a black eye and a fat lip.

"Yeah…yeah I could've, but he's bigger than me."

"…Just go check that he hasn't died of infection yet." He dismissed me and I scampered from the room, not risking the verbal beating. It was a cloudy day in Jerusalem (shocker) and all was not well for the assassin leaned against the pillows in the bureau. Altair's torso was wrapped tightly and he resembled a mummy ready to be dissected and stuck in a dusty old tomb. Altair wouldn't be going anywhere today, it looked like he could barely move a few feet, let alone complete a successful assassination.

Presently…he wasn't conscious and I didn't feel like waking him up anytime soon. I claimed a seat against the wall opposite him and pulled my ipod from my pocket in an attempt to relax. Little did I know that Rise Against blasting in my ear at full volume was…_uncomfortable_ to say the least.

I uttered a string of curses and tugged the headphones out of my ears, I adjusted the volume on my ipod maybe a little too roughly…it wasn't going well for me. Having fixed my ipod and shifted into a more comfortable position I slipped into a sort of coma.

Later on I woke to the relaxing sound of…absolutely nothing, really, there was no sound in the Jerusalem bureau. Not the ever present tinkles of clay pots or everyday clamor from the streets outside.

I struggled to sit up, not quite coherent yet, the fogginess of sleep still clouding my mind. I rubbed my eyes and tried to manage a straight line to the door connecting to Malik's room, but I was never one for walking and chewing gum at the same time, and damn, walls _do_ hurt when they collide with your nose.

My nose emitted soft crunching noises that were not too encouraging, a coppery taste flooded my mouth and my nose continued bleeding steadily through my efforts to clog it.

I gave up in the end and navigated my way to the entrance, one hand extended, just in case a renegade wall decided to sit up and whack me a good one. Again.

"Hey Malik you got a tissue…or…a rag?" My eyes were narrowed in slight pain but I could make out what looked like a menacing shadow.

French grated against my nerves in a voice that definitely wasn't Malik's or Altair's. It was too deep and reminded me of the noises a dog makes just before it throws up…lovely imagery I'm sure.

My hands flew up in surrender as the threatening figure turned on me and waved the sword, lucky for me the soldier had taken his attention off the former assassin, bad for him because he got a blade in his throat seconds later. The solider slumped forwards, I had the bad luck not be able to move and ended up having to catch the dead mans weight. I dropped him quickly though, who knows what bugs the average soldier carries round, ya know?

But back to the matter at hand, "What the hell was that!" I shouted, close to hysterical.

"Calm down woman-"

"Emma!"

"-you weren't hurt." Malik finished, wiping his bloodied blade with a steely glance my way. Blood dripped off my chin and I stared at him. There was something ironic there…I just know it…

"Come, we must leave, there will probably be others."

"Yeah? How do you know that?"

Our pleasant banter was interrupted by a small army of furious woodsman hacking away at the hidden side door (you know there's got to be one).

"That." He swept past me and into the other room, the smug bastard. I followed and arrived in time to see Malik run up the wall, literally, he sprinted up it, only stopping once to gain some leverage on a small ledge. I huffed a couple times, sizing up the wall and finally running forwards.

I made it about…I'd say almost four feet before my feet slipped and I toppled to the floor. You see, the floor and I were becoming good friends, every time I fell it almost felt like it was welcoming me back, bruises, bumps, scrapes and all.

"What are you doing?" I barely heard Malik through the blood pounding in my ears.

"What's it look like?" I said, pushing myself off the floor and was not too happy to see my nosebleed coming back full force.

"Hurry!"

"Aye cap'n!" I shouted back with more than a little vinegar. I could almost hear his tired sigh from down there. I charged at the wall a second time, what was different this time is that I was prepared, I scrambled up the wall and arrived at the top with a proud grin plastered onto my face.

The whole 'ha-look-what-I-can-do' moment was ruined by Malik's cold indifference and brisk pace away from the crime. I stood at the edge of the hole but fled after the retreating man when I heard shouts that sounded suspiciously like angry guardsmen.

And it all went downhill from there. You know, the type of downhill that involves an eighteen wheeler, an oversize load, and worn brake pads?

"I believe the world is burning to the ground, oh well, I guess we're gonna find out!"

"Stop singing."

"Kill-joy."

"I. Don't. Care."

"…"

"…"

"You spin my head right round, right round. When you go down, when you go down, down."

"I said…STOP."

"But I am _so_ bored." I chanted and thunk-thunked a catchy tune against the wall of the small courtyard we had occupied with the back of my precious noggin. Almost an hour into our self-inflicted imprisonment, I had sat down, determined to break through this wall by sundown. Well, the suns bottom had settled onto the horizon and I was starting to consider the back of one's head inefficient as far as breaking down walls went.

I guess Malik agreed with me, though his silence was deafening, and I stopped to look back at the rafiq with almost the same levels of curiosity.

Now wait just a cotton picking minute…something was missing here…and it happened to be assassin-shaped, arrogant, moody, and most suspicious of all…not here.

"Where the hell did Altair run off to?"

"I wouldn't know, he-" Malik tried to start a brief explanation, he had the clipping tones and the cool headed control of someone who is worth listening to. Like in every action/adventure movie there's always some wise ass off in the corner saying how back in his day shit got done, and done right for fucks sake! And that every character knew they had to listen to the old git but didn't exactly want to, and that when shit got real they'd be running back, begging for the geezers prophecies.

But if you tried real hard and read back a few sentences you'd find that the keyword in this phrase would be tried and that my schizophrenic tendencies were rearing their ugly heads.

"Why'd you kill him! I thought it was illegal to kill a fellow assassin?" I ran my mouth and like a drunk driver headed down Main Street -leaving the speed limit a burnt smudge on the road about a mile back -I hit trouble.

Though _my_ type of trouble is significantly different from your usual drunk drivers, about as different as Friday night is to Monday morning, it was still solid, stubborn, and sure to pack a nose breaking, teeth shattering, and gum cutting punch.

"I didn't kill him! God! Why are you so paranoid!" Malik shouted at me from his bench, a good ten feet away from where I had planted my sorry ass.

"Hey Einstein!" I snap "I been pulled outta me own time and into a world where people drop like flies! How should I feel!"

"You should act with more control!"

"Oh joy! I got my own personal shrink now!"

"You're impulsive!"

"You're mean!"

"You're clumsy!"

"You're an angry man!"

"Both of you need to calm down! Half the city's guards are searching for us! Caution is necessary!"

Now that shut us up. When did Altair get here? Why do I ask stupid questions? Really, being sneaky is his job, why am I surprised every time he disappears? Malik looked to be as shocked as I was, whether it was because Altair was being the voice of reason or that he hadn't noticed the assassin either.

"You're bleeding." Malik deadpanned, covering his surprise masterfully. Altair stood in the path of Malik's Death Glare 3.0 and didn't respond, the great crimson stain blooming from his side was enough.

"…A lot." I added just for the heck of it and because stating the obvious made the world a little more clear.

"Why did you leave?" Malik said "You can barely stand straight." Now that Malik mentioned it, where was the frosty demeanor? That cold 'fuck with me and I'll cut your bleeding head off' attitude? Maybe insanity had finally gotten to me but Altair really looked to be half-dead.

"I'm f-"

"Don't you dare say you're fine." I pointed a menacing finger and oh how he trembled (read: he did fuck-all).

"Why did the two of you leave the bureau?" Altair said it like someone who was inquiring about the weather, not someone bleeding out on the streets.

"Templars found it, it was either leave or die." Malik said, and what a coincidence, the same time I said "Shit got real so we hightailed it outta there." Now the spotlight was on me and I didn't have a snappy comeback.

"I'll just shut up now."

"It's for the best."

"I despise you."

"I could say the same for you."

Man, I really must have rubbed Malik the wrong way.


	4. CAUGHT

"Boggis and Bunce and Bean. One fat, one short, one lean…" I sang under my breath, but somehow the man walking next to me still heard my deranged mutterings.

"Is that another one of your songs?" Malik snapped the words at me, apparently he hadn't enjoyed my off-key renditions of Ring Around The Rosie and This Little Piggie Went To The Market. I don't blame him.

But there was something about the dark cloud of tense silence that hung around our little group that made me want to break out in song. Maybe it was how every time I so much as _looked_ at him, Malik would narrow his eyes and give me the disapproving parent glare. Or that whenever a guard patrol spotted us they would break out in songs of their own, though it was mostly just a bunch of yells of "KILL THE ASSASSINS!".

It got old fast.

And where, during all this mayhem, was our favorite neighborhood assassin? I suspect he was busy bleeding out on a rooftop somewhere, but, and these are his words, not mine, he was "attempting to scout ahead alone". Then he disappeared in a flutter of robes and has yet to be seen. It's been four hours.

And so I said, "Why the hell not?" and proceeded to ruin my chances at a long life. So far, it was going pretty well.

Playing the game from my safe little alcove, I had never noticed how far from the bureau the gates were, or how annoyingly persistent a mob of pissed off guards could be. All these variables thrown into the equation came out as one giant shitstorm, and we were in the middle of it. All in all it was shaping up to be a crappy day.

I assumed Malik agreed but it's hard to determine the difference between an annoyed grunt and an agreeing one with the rafiq. As we turned a sharp corner, we were met with the scowling faces of three _very_ annoyed, and _very_ well armed men.

From the mess of words tumbling through my head, I managed to spit out a few, "Well…damn…"

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Malik going for the wicked blade at his hip, and in front of me the three guards were grabbing the hilts of their own weapons. I was caught between the two, and here's the kicker, I had no weapons. Right about now my chance of surviving was a big fat zero.

"Emma, move!"

I could only stand dumbfounded as the three guards hurtled towards us and Malik yelled at me to _do_ something. That something turned out to be a mad dash for the nearest cover and that cover was behind a scary one-armed man with a sword.

The first guard who got within ten feet of Malik was met with hard steel thrust into his abdomen, the second received a similar, grisly fate. The third was smart enough to think before rushing to impale himself on Malik's blade, but he still wasn't smart enough to avoid the knife thrown into his throat. He fell in a puddle of his own blood just in time for another three guards to burst from the crowd and rush the rafiq, it was turning into a proper blood bath.

Rather than fight the oncoming horde of pointy-hatted men, Malik decided on the 'flight' part of the 'flight or fight' option. I have to admit, faced with the literal wall of gleaming swords…I agreed with him.

As the surrounding citizens began to catch on to the violence, we turned tail and fled. Between the frantic milling about of the bystanders and outraged guardsmen, we had our work cut out for us, it was almost impossible to run five feet in any direction without colliding with the aforementioned gaggle of geese. Malik growled and pulled me into a small alley by the arm, I bit down on a startled yell when he almost threw me into an overflowing hay cart.

A body crashed down into the prickly hay alongside mine and I was seized by a brief panic attack before recognizing the voice hissing into my ear.

"Keep quiet…"

A breathed back a shaky "OK" and tried to keep from sneezing. The best part of waiting in that damned haystack was knowing that the shit-for-brains guards _never_ looked in the haystacks. And the worst part was just about everything else.

Imagine sitting in your most hated class, go ahead I'll wait…alright, now imagine the one person who annoys you to the point of blind fury…you ready? They're sitting in a desk behind you and pelting you with wads of spit soaked paper every ten seconds, for a straight HOUR. Now pretend I'm not a crazed lunatic, but a psychiatrist who _really_ cares about what thoughts run through your head…_How does that make you feel?_

Do you feel like stabbing something? Was your answer yes? Then congratulations! Your are slightly insane! But beyond that, that feeling might be something close to what I was feeling as Malik and I lay in that musty haystack, and damn it all if that didn't sound dirty, but I was starting to go a little stir crazy.

I could hear the heavy footfalls of the guards, slowly they faded into the distance and the usual, humdrum racket crept in to replace the stunned silence following our escape. I would say that it was nice but then I would be lying through my teeth, and ever since I was little, my mum has told me that lying is bad, and only naughty children lie. So I try my best.

I wiggled around, trying to dig my way out but only succeeding in burying myself deeper, I eventually got out, it took a while though. And by a while I mean several long, _long_ minutes filled with colorful language and new bruises.

Once my head surfaced and I dragged the rest of me out of the pile, I saw Malik in the shade of a stall, talking to an informant. As I spit out pieces of hay, dirt, and who knows what out of my mouth, I arrived in time to hear the last of their conversation.

"…south of the gates, but not by much rafiq, I've seen the place myself and can assure you it is not well protected."

Malik looked to be thinking it over, his trademark scowl sat on his lips and his eyes were, as always, bitter and calculating. I stood a few steps away, wondering what the hell they were talking about and hoping it was not something to serious. Like Martians landing in Jerusalem and demanding we sacrifice our brains to science, but I doubted it.

"You're sure it's him?"

"There could be no doubt sir, it was Altair."

"Idiot…thank you for the information brother, I will do what I can. Safety and peace."

The informant inclined his head, melting back into the crowd with a confused glance back at me. Malik looked pissed beyond belief, so I was timid to ask him what was wrong.

"Hey man…wazzup?" My usual energy was diminished somewhat by the impending doom his words were certain to drop like a ton of bricks.

"You took your time."

"Oi! That hay cart's a helluva lot deeper than it looks!"

"Excuses, excuses…"

"…You're impossible."

"I take that as a compliment."

"Trust me, it wasn't meant to be."

"I don't, so my answer remains the same."

"Now you're just avoiding the question."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry-" I didn't miss the obvious sarcasm "-what did you ask?"

"What'd he say?" I resisted the urge to grind my teeth and instead stuffed my hands into my pockets, waiting for his response.

"Altair has been caught by some guards, a result of his arrogance and stupidity no doubt, and now I must find a way to get him out before they slaughter the bastard." Malik hid none of the anger in his voice.

"Cool…or not, probably not…what now?"

"Now, we find where he's being held."

"…You said we…"

"Yes I did, is it to much for me to assume you're capable of more than useless prattle?"

"Too mean dude, just…too mean…"

Malik sighed at me and turned to begin his search for the captured assassin, and I hurried to keep up with his long stride. I had a feeling this day was going to get worse, if only I knew that feeling was right.

**Hey ladies and gents, I'm back. Between life and school I've had very little time to work on my stories, so I'm sorry. Me being a lazy ass didn't help any but...it is what it is right? I'll try to set some deadlines on the next few shapters, hopefully that'll get me going. I've been stuck on this bit for a long time, but hopefully it isn't totally crap. Are you liking it so far? Criticism is always welcome :)**


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